


a hereditary name common to all members of a family, as distinct from a given name

by litessaber (AzaWhite)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Finn is happy, Finn-centric, Fluff, Literally everyone ships Finn/Poe, M/M, Rogue One mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 01:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11979648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzaWhite/pseuds/litessaber
Summary: ....Finn wakes up from his coma. General Organa summons him. He learns a little bit more about being human.."Because even if Rey looked at him like no one ever had, even the mere mention of Poe’s name sends flutters through Finn’s body, fills Finn with feelings he never experienced as part of the First Order. '…whole,' Finn decides. 'He makes me feel whole.'"....





	a hereditary name common to all members of a family, as distinct from a given name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Onthecyberseas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onthecyberseas/gifts).



When Finn wakes up from his coma, a lot has changed. His medic, Q’tash, tells him all the latest Resistance gossip while clearing him for dismissal. Rey is gone, off training on some remote planet with Luke Skywalker, and Poe is out on a recon mission. (Finn pretends not hear Q’tash say that Poe has been in the medcenter every nearly every hour of the day.) As the medic wraps up hir evaluation, Finn finds himself staring at a sheet of flimsi with no small amount of trepidation. He has filled out most of the form to the best of his ability, Q’tash having supplied hir best guess at medical conditions and history. But there is one thing that bothers him—the blank space next to “surname.”

  
Q’tash notices his hesitation, and glides over to gently place a veiny, webbed hand on Finn’s shoulder, grating out a “What is the matter, young one?”

  
Finn pauses for a minute, considering, before softly speaking. “I…I’m not sure I understand this field.” He points.

  
The medic lets out what must be a sigh, though the sound is gravely and rough. “A surname is a family name, a name passed on from parent to child—in some cultures it comes before the given name, and in others after. For some, it is part of the given name, and a few don’t even have one. In some species, when two members marry, one takes the surname of the other, or hyphenate both names. Do you not know yours, child?”

  
Hir words sting, but Finn acknowledges them with a small shake of the head. “The First Order gave us codes, not names. Poe named me ‘Finn’ when I ran off with him.”

  
Q’tash nods thoughtfully, and takes the flimsi from Finn’s hand. “Come back when you decide if you want one—and what it’ll be. I’ll keep your file somewhere safe.”

  
Finn thanks hir and leaves the medcenter, mind churning with all the possibilities. He supposes it would make sense to have this surname—after all, with so many beings in the galaxy, it would be entirely possible to meet two with the same name, and have no polite way of distinguishing between them. Just as he reaches his assigned quarters, a female Twi’lek approaches him.

  
“Finn, correct?” At his nod, she sighs in relief. “I’m Yokmiji, General Organa’s page. She’s sent for you. This way, please.”

  
He trails the Twi’lek by a pace or two through the rather long trek to the general’s office, focusing on keeping his breath steady. Once Yokmiji stops, she turns to him, fushia lekku gently swinging with the movement. “The general asked to speak with you privately. Don’t worry,” she adds, perhaps sensing his apprehension. “You’re not in trouble.”

  
Finn waits until Yokmiji rounds the nearest corner before taking a deep breath and stepping into the modestly decorated office. He stands at attention, nerves tangling in his stomach. General Organa sits at the desk in the center, hair perfectly coiled even as she hastily stores a few sheets of flimsi and a datacron in a lower cabinet.

  
“Please, have a seat.” She gestures to a plush chair in front of an end-table.

  
He sits. With his secondhand clothes, he feels distinctly out of place amidst the office’s understated elegance. General Organa comes around and sits opposite him, two mugs of caf in her hands and offers him one. Finn accepts the drink, but keeps it clenched in a white-knuckled grip. In the First Order, getting summoned by a superior—especially not your direct supervisor—is major cause for concern. Despite what Yokmiji said, he figures the same is true in the Resistance and wracks his recent memory, trying to figure out what he’s done to warrant a summons from General Leia Organa.

  
Maybe his panic shows on his face, because General Organa quickly makes her smile more reassuring. “Trust me Finn, you aren’t in trouble. I simply wanted to talk.”

  
Finn finds this hard to believe—generals don’t ‘simply’ want to talk with mere foot soldiers. But he doesn’t feel threatened, not yet, so he allows himself to relax just a little bit.

  
The general continues. “Specifically, I’d like to talk about why you decided to rescue Commander Dameron. That couldn’t have been an easy decision.”

  
He takes a steadying breath. In the First Order, he might have been prime officer material, but under the steady gaze of the Last Princess of Alderaan, Finn feels much like he did when he snuck Poe Dameron out of his cell—anxiety tripping his tongue and making it heavy and clumsy, nerves stiffening his muscles. “I-I didn’t want to kill for them—the First Order,” he adds, as if General Organa needs more clarification.

  
From there, his story tumbles out in a jumbled mess. Finn tries to pace himself, taking tiny sips of caf every occasionally, but for the most part, he spills every detail of the decision without pause. When he finally finishes, nearly two standard hours have passed, if the chrono on the far wall is any indication. General Organa sits back, alert posture relaxing into something not quite informal.

  
“Thank you for your honesty, Finn. I appreciate it.” She lets out a gentle sound, something that could almost be mistaken for a sigh. “It looks like the Resistance owes you a great debt. Commander Dameron is a very valuable resource.”

  
Something inside Finn bristles. “He’s not a resource. He’s a person. As am I.” The last sentence is tacked on unconsciously, and he recoils—just a bit. After all, troopers are units to be dispensed and disposed of as needed. He’s still not quite used to being a creature with autonomy. Even as he waits for a reprimand, he feels a surge of conviction. His name is Finn, and he’s a person.

  
The general looks shocked for a second, then quickly regains her composure. “I didn’t mean to imply that the commander was any less than a person. Simply that he has invaluable skill at piloting.” Her gaze turns a little crafty, and Finn wonders if he’s been led into a trap. “You seem quite fond of Commander Dameron.”

  
He ducks his head, a blush making its way up his face. He briefly considers lying, but just as quickly dismisses the idea. “Poe—he makes me feel—” His words suddenly become inadequate, and he gestures his free hand, making loops in the air. Because even if Rey looked at him like no one ever had, even the mere mention of Poe’s name sends flutters through Finn’s body, fills Finn with feelings he never experienced as part of the First Order. “…whole,” Finn decides. “He makes me feel whole.”

  
General Organa leans back with a satisfied smile. “I thought so.” She pauses before continuing, and it’s obvious she isn’t just thinking about Finn and Poe. “Sometimes, a home is a person.”

  
Finn understands very little about these emotions, but he understands this. That’s why when the general excuses him, he quietly makes his exit.

  
As he makes his way to his quarters, he ponders Q’tash’s words in the context of General Organa’s statement. He steps into his assigned room and heads for the ‘fresher, catching his reflection in the mirror. His face looks foreign to him, and he spends the better part of a standard hour memorizing his face. When he finally comes out, he jumps back in surprise.

  
Because, lounging carelessly on the small bed, is Poe Dameron, still in his orange flight suit. As Finn clutches his chest, Poe rises and apologizes. “Sorry for scaring you. I went to visit you at the medcenter, but the medic told me you’d waken and been assigned quarters.”

  
“No, you’re fine, I mean, it’s fine—” Finn silently curses his stutters, but Poe seems to get the idea.

  
“Still, I’m sorry. I should’ve waited outside.” He moves to leave.

  
Finn automatically reaches out to grab Poe’s hand. “Please, stay.”

  
The pilot looks down and bites his lip. “Okay.” The two of them sit down side-by-side on the bed. Silence reigns for a moment, until Poe breaks it. “I heard you’re thinking of getting a surname.”

  
“Yeah.” The word comes out breathy and not at all the way Finn wants it to.

  
Poe doesn’t seem to notice. “I was thinking maybe you’d like the surname ‘Rook.’ It was the last name of an Imperial pilot that defected to join the Rebellion.”

  
_Rook_. Finn mulls it over, tasting the word in his mind. _Finn Rook_. It feels good, but not quite right. “I—”

  
“Shavit,” Poe’s curse startles Finn. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that you had to take it, it’s just you two had things in common and—”

  
“Poe, stop.” Finn smiles gently.

  
“Huh?” Poe, for his part, looks completely sidetracked. Finn thinks it’s cute that the smooth-talking flyboy is speechless. He takes a second to enjoy the sight before the nerves settle in.

  
“I like it. Thank you.”

  
Poe’s grin slowly stretches across his face and brightens the room. “I’m glad you like it.” He gets up and moves to leave. “I’ll see you around?”

  
Finn takes the plunge. “I like it all right. But when I remember what Q’tash and General Organa said, I think it’d be better with ‘Dameron’ after it.”

  
Poe freezes mid-step. He turns on his heel. “Are you proposing to me?”

  
_Kriffing hells_. “I-it’s just something General Organa said—about home being a person.” Finn takes a deep breath. “You’re my home. And I don’t know about how marriage works or anything, but I do know that I want to be where you are. Ever since I saw you, I knew that. Maybe it’s weird, I don’t really know, but I think you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. You make me feel _whole_ , Poe.”

  
The pilot comes a little closer, and Finn squirms. Poe grabs Finn’s hands in each of his own, and pauses. “I think—”

  
And then it’s Finn’s turn to interrupt as he quickly drops Poe’s hand and turns around, world shattering. “I’m—I’m sorry. I didn’t want to ruin the friendship we have. Just—forget about what I said.”

  
Poe lets out a gentle chuckle. “I was going to say, I think I feel the same way.”

  
Something blooms inside Finn’s chest, something pleasant and warm and beautiful. He turns, and lets his lips stretch into his biggest smile. Poe leans in and drops a kiss on Finn’s lips, and suddenly, the tiny quarters feel huge and spacious and like a meadow full of songbirds. He kisses Poe back, at first timid and then persistent. They stay like that for a long time, eventually sitting back on the bed, thighs brushing and holding hands and kissing lips.

  
(“Promise me if we make it through this war, you’ll take my name.”)

  
(“Finn Rook-Dameron? I like the sound of that.”)

  
(If, when they finally go to formally change Finn-no-surname into Finn Rook, they also start filling out another name-change request, well, Q’tash certainly isn’t telling anyone.)

  
(Well, except for a certain general, that is.)


End file.
